Two Worlds A SmallvilleSupernatural crossover
by kdsch123
Summary: Two worlds join together! Sam and Dean Winchester find themselves in Smallville to investigate a suspicious accident at the Luthorcorp plant. Clark Kent and Chloe Sullivan are on the case as well, and they team up to find the truth. CHLARK Friendship, po
1. Chapter 1

60 Minute Fics – October Challenge – Urban Legends - "Last Kiss"

Two Worlds - A Smallville/Supernatural crossover. Spoilers possible for season six of Smallville, spoilers possible for season two of Supernatural, but this is all brand new, so probably not.

Smallville, 1926 

_There had never been a more glorious moment for the Ross family. Where once a two rows of long sheds had once stood, now a brick cannery rose from the harvest gold cornfields, and for the first time, citizens of Smallville could have jobs that didn't rely on their farms for income. It was a beautiful Kansas afternoon at the end of October, the kind that herald the end of Indian Summer, endless blue sky with only the softest and most perfect white clouds for the eyes to rest on. Royal Ross, the oldest of the Ross brothers and the official spokesman of the new company beamed proudly, his arms around his brothers as they posed for their photograph to celebrate the opening of the factory. A loud puff of smoke from the flash tray marked the official opening of the factory along with a cheer from the gathered crowd. _

"_Welcome to the Twentieth Century, Smallville!" Royce called out, as people milled past him and into the factory. The Smallville High School band began to play, as the town shuffled through the heavy oak doors that were still bright and fresh with their heavy shellac. Everyone from as far as Granville had come to see the machines take the good Lowell County corn and turn it into the sweet creamy delicacy they were famous for. Royal smoothed the lapels of his new suit jacket and nodded to his brothers, all of whom had been skeptical. They weren't that far from being the hired hands that picked the corn, and only Royal had believed in the good opinion of the people in the town enough to take the risk. _

"_This is something, Roy, I gotta hand it to you." Jeddediah Kent shook Royce's hand warmly, a wide smile creasing his sunburned face. "I'm telling you…all those hours shaving the corn by hand gone? I can't believe it."_

"_Jed, my friend, look at the future.." Royal waved his arm over the main processing area, hundreds of bushels of corn processed in what seemed like minutes. "There is nothing that can stop progress!" The whine of the steam powered grinders, heavy cylinders of stainless steel as they began to move made Royal's wide smile grow wider. "Those grinders will last a thousand years!"_

_Smallville, 1966_

_Reuben Ross nodded slowly and walked back to the small cluster of engineers that huddled around the last ancient machine from the original cannery. His son Rodney had been sent home, along with Rodney's young friend, Jonathan Kent. Reuben and Hiram Kent had thought it would not only be a learning experience for both boys, but also a bit of a treat to bring them to the factory for the day. But they didn't need to see this. Reuben didn't want to see it himself, but he had no choice. The entire production staff had been sent home and to make matters worse, the gossip mill had begun churning almost immediately, because the girls on the switchboard could not answer the phones fast enough. The Ross Family loved Smallville, but one of the drawbacks of living in a small town was that there were no secrets at all._

"_Goddamn piece of crap grinders, moody sunovabitch, always was…" Clayton Stevens groaned, the upper half of his body visible, the rest disappearing into one of the heavy, smooth presses that gave the creamed corn its creaminess. Reuben had never changed the rollers – they were heavy die cut steel, polished smooth with years of use. They had effectively created the Ross name brand corn for years, and now, Reuben felt his blood pounding in his ears, wondering what would become of all of them because of this accident. His time served in Korea with honor could not have possibly prepared him for this moment and Reuben wished his father were alive to handle it._

"_We're here to help you, Clay, hang on…" Reuben knelt beside the creamer and looked into his foreman's eyes. "What can I get you? The doctor is on his way, and we called your wife…"_

"_Call Betty back and tell her to stay home, Reuben. I can't let her see me like this." Clayton struggled a little and then seemed to relax. "If I move a little to the left, I can't feel any pain at all." Clayton's ruddy face grew slightly paler, and Reuben felt his stomach turn at the idea of all that lost blood. _

"_Just hold tight, Clay. We're going to get you out of there." Reuben assured him uselessly, and Clayton nodded, swallowing hard. _

"_I heard that college kid from engineering say if we throw that freaking switch I'll bite the dust in less than ten seconds." The foreman muttered, rolling his eyes toward his friend. His voice was strained, but conversational and casual. "I say turn the sunovabitch on and do this thing right." The former Marine gritted his teeth and nodded. "Go on, Reuben, do it."_

"_But, don't you want to say goodbye to Betty...I mean, I can see not wanting to take the girls out of school, but…" Reuben was flabbergasted, thinking of his own wife and children. _

_Clay trembled a little. "I'd rather she'd have remembered me like I was this morning…full of piss and vinegar…oh hell, here she comes…" Clay's face had grown even more ashen. His request was hurried, whispered, so that his wife would not overhear. "Do me a favor, Reuben. Take care of them for me…my girls, wouldya?"_

"_Like they were my own, I swear." Reuben promised and then stood. Betty Stevens, a cool Metropolis blonde, hurried toward them, the soft soles of her flat shoes slapping against the floor. "Betty, did the doctor explain what happened?"_

_Betty's sunglasses were off, revealing liquid brown eyes that were glazed over with fright and tears. "He did. It's not his fault I only heard every third word. Oh, Clay…" Betty sank to her knees beside her husband. "Clay…" Her hands fluttered helplessly around her husband's face, and the brave man closed his eyes, gathering his resolve. _

"_Right. Betty, kiss me goodbye, baby. Leonard Small has my will and insurance policy, he'll know what to do. I love you, Betty." Clay whispered, as his wife's tears wet his face. _

"_Oh God, Clay…"Betty rasped back. "You aren't hurting…"_

"_Hell, I should be." Clay grinned with effort. "Okay, baby, it's time. Get yourself out of here and home. The girls are going to need you to be tough now. Get me?"_

"_I do. I love you, Clay. It's only ever been you…" Betty kissed his face, sobbing. She rested her forehead against his and then nodded. "What am I going to do without you taking care of us?"_

"_Go. I'll always be there, in your heart, honey." Clay bit the word off and nodded slightly. "Bets, please you have to go."_

_Betty rose, and put her sunglasses back on. She turned to Reuben. "Don't do anything until I'm out of the building, okay?"_

_Reuben looked down at his friend, who nodded again. "Okay, Betty. I'll call you at home later. Paula will get the girls from school."_

_Betty nodded and turned away slowly, her steps forced as she walked toward the doors of the processing room and out into the Ross Creamed Corn Factory parking lot. Reuben had kept his word, because as Betty reached for the car door handle, a pain raced through her like brushfire. She looked back at the building, then ran back inside, ignoring the people who tried to stop her, and back into the processing room. A strangled sob managed to get past her closing throat as she observed the small group of men clustered around her now dead husband, and Reuben Ross' dark face was twisted with grief and horror as he turned to see her standing there. _

"_Betty! Jesus!" Reuben shouted. "Get her out of here now!" But Betty was frozen to the spot, the sight of her husband's lifeless torso draining blood freezing her to the cold cement floor, pointing to her dead husband. His eyes were glazed over, but even years later, Betty would swear she saw his mouth move….._

_Smallville, 2006 –_

_Jim Niediger walked through the corridor toward his small office, eating a doughnut and reading the latest results of the tests they'd run on the corn, using the old Ross Cannery equipment that had been modified with meteor rock alloy. Jim was never one hundred percent sure what purpose his experiments served, but the results were always interesting and Lex Luthor paid well enough that Jim didn't really care to ask any questions. Finishing his doughnut and licking the last of the powdered sugar from his fingers, Jim reached for his pen, a custom one his wife had made for him when he gotten his Masters degree, and swore under his breath. He was forever leaving that thing behind, and as much as he loved it, Jim promised himself yet again that he was switching back to using the cheap pens that Luthorcorp supplied to their staff. He walked back to the engineering lab where the old equipment had been set up and modified, seeing his pen in his mind as he walked down the hall. Lately, there had been talk about seeing ghosts in this building, but Jim was a realist, a scientist, and such things were simply the product of over active imaginations and the over tired minds of the nightshift crew. _

_The engineering lab was dark, just the way he'd left it, but Jim saw a tall man examining the old presses, running his hand over the modified rollers, that gleamed and reflected back what small amount of light there was in the room, casting green glowing spots here and there. _

_  
"Hey, if you are punched out, buddy, you need to leave the lab. Can't have you in here without safety equipment. The OSHA rep would have my ass." Jim said and the tall man turned around, giving Jim a better look at his face. Thirtyish ,craggy features, hair buzz cut in the way that way seemed to be favored by the men at the Smallville Barber shop who were over 60, the man's white shirt was pristinely clean, and the black pants just slightly too black. The visitor nodded and went back to examining the machine again, and Jim set his reports down and walked over to him._

"_Look, I don't know who you are, but you have to leave the lab now. I don't want to have to call security."_

"_Not safe." The visitor said, his hand on the meteor rock coated cylinder. "The sunovabitch has a mind of it's own. Should've been replaced years ago."_

"_Right." Jim nodded patiently. "I'll keep that in mind." The visitor shrugged and walked around the machine and then, seemed to vanish in the gloomy depths of the lab. "Hey, where did you go?" He heard a sort of strangled scream and turned toward the door. The machine suddenly sprung to life and Jim felt the back of his lab coat pulling at him. He turned again, getting twisted in the white fabric, his eyes growing wider as the rotor sucked him inexorably toward the inside of the machine. He called out, but his voice echoed in the room, with no one to hear. Looking back in the direction of the scream, the last thing Jim saw was a long, lean white shape, and where it's eyes should have been an odd black shadow stretched across the face. It pointed at the machine and sobbed as Jim Neidiger's body was processed by the heavy polished steel cylinders, the glowing meteor rock skins turning his blood black._

Today

"And I can't recall...any love at all, oh baby, this blows them all away…" Dean Winchester was in a rare good mood. It was odd to be back in Kansas, made him think of his mother and the life they had before, but it felt good. The car windows were open, and the clean autumn air swept over them as they sped down the road to a town that even Sam had snickered at the name of. Freaking Smallville, of all places. Lowell County was the next one over from the one they had been born in, and Dean sang louder. "WHYYYY CAN'T THIS BEEEE LO-UH-HU-OVEE…"

"Do you really need to sing?" Sam Winchester was not in a good mood. His sleep was increasingly disturbed by dreams of Jess and now Dad. The last few weeks had been pretty darn traumatic, not that last year had been a cakewalk either, but Sam was feeling as if something huge was looming over them. This simple haunting job was really almost beneath them when there were demons out there. The other purpose for their trip was unavoidable, and Sam thought of the box holding their father's ashes, that sat in the trunk. "I mean, Van Halen is annoying enough, but you really aren't winning any Grammys."

"Lighten up, Sammy. Look around you, man. Feel it. It's freaking KANSAS. We're HOME." Dean said, and Sam frowned at his brother. It was hard to tell sometimes when Dean was being serious or if he was at his most sarcastic and facetious.

"Yeah, in Lowell County. Dad always said to stay the hell out of Lowell County, if we managed to get back to Kansas, and here we are." Sam said thinking of the research he'd been doing on odd incidents in Lowell County since they'd left their last job. His laptop had nearly crashed with the amount of information that had come back, news articles, blog entries, photos, a locked website that was owned by a C. Sullivan, all devoted to Lowell County and it's weirdness.

Dean turned to look at his brother quickly before darting his eyes back to the road. "The job...it's a simple haunting. We get in, we get out." Dean replied breezily, and Sam blinked at his brother's sunny attitude. A simple haunting was one thing, but ghosts and a deadly piece of industrial machinery was something else again.

"You really are happy to be back here. I can't believe it." Sam laughed finally. "Well, since we're going through with this, we may as well find a place to stay."

"Now you're talking, Sammy. I've got a good feeling about this job." Dean nodded as the Van Halen song ended, looking out at the sun dappled fields before them. "A really good feeling."

"I have a bad feeling about this, Clark." Chloe Sullivan looked at her friend Clark Kent and shook her head. People don't just get sucked up into a non-working piece of machinery and get smooshed. There is more to this than Lex is giving out to the public." She sipped her enormous latte and widened her hazel eyes at Clark, who nodded thoughtfully. Ever since his little conversation with Lex in the greenhouse on the Luthor estate, Clark avoided anything that Lex owned, so as not to accidentally run into his former friend. Except the Talon, which seemed to be an unspoken neutral zone.

"When has Lex ever been into full disclosure, Chloe?" Clark asked, leaning forward and lowering his voice so that the owner of the Talon, his ex-girlfriend, Lana Lang could not over hear them. "I can't just walk in there any more and ask him what's going on, either."

"I know." Chloe bit her lip and looked over at where Lana was in smiling conversation with a customer. "I just think this is huge. Did you get in touch with Pete?"

"Yeah." Clark nodded. "He said that his grandfather told him once about a bad accident a long time ago at the creamed corn factory, but it sounded like one of those stories that get around, what do you call them…"

"Urban legends." Jimmy Olsen chimed in, sliding into a seat beside Chloe. "That's what you meant, right, CK?" He smiled brightly at Clark across the table and then turned to gaze at Chloe. "Hi, Brighteyes."

"Hi." Chloe smiled back, and then jumped a little when Clark cleared his throat. "Sorry, Clark."

Clark grimaced a little and then continued. "Pete said that his dad could still had access to the factory records. I'm going to head over there later."

"What makes you think that an accident that happened in a factory that's not even here anymore would have anything to with what happened the other night?" Jimmy asked, taking a drink from the triple espresso that Chloe had ordered for him. Two pairs of eyes on him made Jimmy blush. "Right, we're in Smallville, I forgot."

Dean parked the car in front of a busy looking coffee shop and looked around a little through the front window of the car. "I wish this town didn't look so familiar."

"You've been saying that. Are you sure you aren't psychic, Dean?" Sam asked, a small smirk the only sign that he found his brother's déjà vu extremely amusing. Dean's expression of disgust made Sam laugh out loud. "You act like that would be a bad thing."

Dean shook his head and took the keys from the car's ignition. "I can see the future, Sammy. Want to know what it is? It's me, drinking a large coffee and eating whatever isn't nailed down in this place and then sleeping with the windows open back at the hotel. Whoooo." Dean waved his hands in the air. "Freaky." He got out of the car, looked around and took a deep breath. "I love it here."

Sam got out of the car too, not ignoring the nagging sense of things being very odd here in Smallville. Maybe it was how it all _looked_ perfect. Or maybe it was just that Dean was so happy being in the town. Usually his older brother was dour and watchful, suspicious of everyone that wasn't a pretty girl and ready for anything. Now, he was whistling (whistling!!), as he walked to the door of the coffee shop, a renovated movie theater by all appearances. Sam followed Dean into the shop, named the Talon, and looked around. The crowd was young, and almost preternaturally pretty. A petite brunette was behind the counter, and Sam waited for Dean to get a look at her. She smiled as they got closer, and put down the white cloth she'd been using to wipe the counter.

"Can I get you anything?" Her voice was sweet and welcoming. "I can vouch for the almond muffins myself – they're really good."

"A large coffee, black, and a," Dean squinted at the handwritten specials on the chalkboard. "The sandwich special." He looked at Sam. "You?"

"Um, the almond muffin sounds great, don't toast it, and an iced tea." Sam replied, smiling at the girl. He looked around. "This is a really nice place."

"Thanks." The girl shrugged. "It wasn't always a coffee shop, though. It used to be a movie theater." She smiled. "I'm Lana."

"I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean." Sam gestured toward his brother, and Dean nodded absently, not doing his usual flirting. "He's not himself today."

"Oh, that's okay. You guys come from far away?" Lana asked, filling a large glass with fresh iced tea. "On your way to Metropolis?"

"Yeah." Dean replied, finally seeming to see the girl. "Lana, right?"

She nodded, her dark hair escaping from the pile she'd gathered it into on the top of her head. "That's right."

"We heard there was a pretty nasty industrial accident here a few days ago." Dean said, laying on the charm, but only at half power, and Sam frowned a little. "Was it as bad as it said in the paper?"

"Well." Lana tipped her head and folded her arms. "It's been hell, that's for sure. I'm seeing the person that owns that plant and he's had nothing but trouble. I hope you aren't reporters, because I'd have to ask you to leave."

"No, no.." Dean said quickly. "We're not reporters. Just passing through on our way to Lawrence. Our dad just died and we have to handle some odds and ends he left behind." The truth sounded alien coming from Dean, and Sam blinked. But the truth worked like no lie could have, and Sam could see that this girl had been lied to by professionals, and her face changed from stony resistance to empathy in half a heart beat.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm an orphan myself. How terrible for you." Lana smiled sadly. "I hope he didn't suffer."

"It was quick." Sam said, his eye falling on the table where Chloe, Clark and Jimmy were sitting. "Who are they?"

Lana looked around Sam and nodded. "That is my friend, Chloe Sullivan, her friend Jimmy Olsen, and Clark Kent." She said the third name like it tasted bad in her mouth.

"Don't like him much, huh?" Dean asked, and Lana shrugged again. "Ex boyfriend?"

"I guess you could say that." Lana replied, handing Dean his coffee.

"Not the C. Sullivan who kept a website of all the odd things that happened here in Lowell County?" Sam asked, and Lana nodded. "Now that's a coincidence."

"That's her. She's been busy at the Daily Planet but I'm sure if you were interested in the strange and unusual, Chloe'd be the person who could help you out." Lana told them. "Your food should be ready in a few minutes, if you want to go sit down."

"Great." Dean replied. "Thanks, Lana."

"Don't mention it." Lana smiled, and then her pretty face creased, as if trying to remember something. "You look so familiar. Do I know you?"

Dean smiled and raised his eyebrows a little. "I haven't been in this part of Kansas for longer than it took to drive through since I was a kid. And I know I'd remember you, if we had met before."

"I know." Lana nodded. "That's so funny. Well, anyway, go ahead and have a seat. Patty will bring your food to you in a few minutes."

"Yeah, thanks." Sam towed Dean away from the counter and Lana and toward a table near Chloe's. "Dean."

Dean was still looking at Lana, and then he shrugged and shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. "I swear that girl looks familiar. What?"

"Come on." Sam walked up to Chloe and smiled. "Hi, I'm Sam, and this is Dean…"

"Hi, Sam, Dean." The big guy at the table rose, and Sam, who was used to being the tallest person in the room found himself looking up slightly at the guy. "I'm Clark."

"Clark..." Dean nodded. "We just want to talk to your girlfriend here…"

"I'm not his," Chloe began, and the red haired guy at the table also stood, looking slightly angry as well. "girlfriend. Clark.." Her hazel eyes widened and darted back to Clark's vacated seat. "How can I help you?" Clark sat back down, his broad shoulders impossibly straight and spine stiff. The red haired guy sat as well, after whispering something that got him a hisssed, "Quiet, Jimmy" from Chloe.

Sam pulled a chair over and sat down with them at the table, and then gestured for Dean to do the same. "My brother and I have sort of an interest in strange occurrences, and we heard about the factory accident so we thought we'd find out more about it. Plus," Sam smiled charmingly. "I'm sort of a fan of yours. I read your old Torch articles online." Dean nodded, adding a grunt of assent, keeping one eye on the big guy who was also paying very close attention to them.

"A fan, huh?" Chloe grinned, and Clark and Jimmy both looked at each other in shock. "Well, I'm flattered. The Torch articles are ancient history, but still alive through the magic of the internet, I guess. How can I help you?"

"This incident at, Luthorcorp, has anything happened like that before?" Dean asked, and Chloe shrugged, shaking her head.

"Our friend Pete's family used to own the land the Luthorcorp plant is on now." Clark offered. "He's trying to get more information for us."

"Besides, it's really not unusual for something odd to happen here in Smallville, especially in the Luthorcorp factory." Chloe said. "If you've read my articles from the Torch days, you can pretty much figure that out."

"I saw the sign as we drove into town, "Meteor Capital of the World." Two devastating strikes in less than twenty years. That's pretty amazing." Dean said, taking his sandwich plate from the waitress with a smile and a wink. "Surprising that you all stay here."

"Is it? Some of us have farms here." Clark turned to look at the older Winchester brother, his intense blue-green eyes suspicious. "You don't just abandon your home."

"Whoa, I'm just saying, if I lived in a town with a big, cosmic bullseye painted on it, I'd move." Dean replied smoothly. "No offense, man. Really." Clark nodded, but Sam got the uncomfortable feeling that Clark had seen a great deal of weirdness in this town, and it was mostly connected to the meteor strikes. He looked down at his muffin and pushed it away. He hadn't had much of an appetite lately.

"We're staying at that little motel just inside of town, and if you all hear anything, please call." Sam handed Chloe a card. She frowned at it, and then looked up at him again.

"You ARE Sam Winchester. I've heard of you. And your brother. Clark, these are the guys I told you about." Chloe smiled knowingly. "I'm a fan of yours too."

"We made the papers?" Dean asked, and Chloe shook her head.

"Let's just say that our interests in the unusual have intersected from time to time. And you think our little industrial accident might fall into your territory?" Chloe pushed Sam's muffin closer to him. "Eat. You don't look good."

"Not sleeping. Lot on my mind. It might, but we won't be sure of that until we can get more information." Sam said, and this time Clark's expression changed from watchfulness to understanding.

"I know that feeling, believe me. You guys shouldn't stay out at that motel. It's not very safe. You can stay at my farm. There's plenty of room." Clark offered, and Sam looked at the farmer again. Where he had gotten a perfectly clear read on him before, now Clark was a blank slate. It wasn't a conscious thing, Sam realized, but there it was.

"Fine with me." Dean picked up his sandwich, and sighed happily. "I could eat ten of these."

Sam smiled at Clark. "Appreciate the concern, but Dean and I are used to staying in rough places."

"Well, the invitation stands, if you change your mind." Clark smiled back, and Sam found himself questioning his decision to turn the offer down . Clark could have been a fraternity brother at Stanford, a football hero. There was nothing odd or unusual about him. Was it the hunting that made him so suspicious? Or was it that Sam couldn't read him at all? . And then, it came to Sam slowly, a creeping awareness as he looked at the perfectly normal seeming young man before him. _Not human, never human_.

"I can't believe you just invited those guys to stay at the farm, just like that!" Chloe scolded Clark later, after Jimmy headed back to Metropolis and the Winchesters had gone back to their motel. "You don't know much about the Winchesters; They hunt things not human, Clark."

"I'm not exactly a ghost, Chloe." Clark laughed, as he fed the cows. Chloe folded her arms and followed him down the row of stalls, her face set in angry lines. "Besides, what could they do to me?"

"They could discover that Kryptonite weakens you and kill you." Chloe offered testily, and Clark shrugged.

"I guess. They'd first have to figure out that I wasn't human, and then what weakened me. Overall, I'm not that concerned, especially with them more interested in the accident at the Luthorcorp plant." Clark looked at Chloe and set the bag of grain down. "You're really concerned, aren't you?"

"I'm really concerned because for some reason the idea completely escaped your mind that they could really be here to hunt you." Chloe reached over and pulled on Clark's shirt. "We don't know who has seen you do what you do. First the Green Arrow and now these guys? It's scary when you get trusting all at once, Clark."

"You sound like my Dad now." Clark shook his head. "Listen, Chloe, if they want to investigate what's going on at Luthorcorp, I say fine. The more people that start figuring out that Lex is never quite on the up and up out there, the better."

Chloe rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm going to check my email from any word from Pete."

"I'm telling you, Dean, that guy Clark isn't human." Sam leafed through their father's journal, stopping occasionally to quickly skim one page or another. "I couldn't get a clear read on him at all…" They were back in their motel room, which was definitely not as nice as a room in a cozy Kansas farmhouse. Sam didn't want to take anything for granted or at face value. He sighed, thinking about how someone like Clark wouldn't have even set off the smallest alarm bell back in the days of Stanford. As a matter of fact, Clark might have been a friend there. That's what bothered Sam so much.

"Why, Sammy? Because he's built like a linebacker for the Green Bay Packers and was actually nice? So what?" Dean was looking at blueprints of the Luthorcorp plant that he'd gotten from Smallville public records. "Oh, here we go - score one for the farmer and the reporter chick. There really was another factory on the site, Sammy, look." Dean pointed to a section of the drawing. "They incorporated the old factory and it's foundation into the new one."

Sam put down John Winchester's journal and squinted at the blueprint. "I wonder why?"

"Who knows?" Dean replied, tapping the drawing. "That's got to be the place." He looked up at his brother. "Sam." Dean snapped his fingers twice. "Sammy?!"

"Yeah." Sam looked up, his mind whirling with possibilities. Clark wasn't human. There were already demons in the world, could there be angels, too? Clark might not be human, but he certainly wasn't evil. That much Sam was almost sure of. Sam frowned, and Dean shook his head, instinctively knowing what his brother was mulling over.

"Listen, forget Clark, Sammy. He's the last of a dying breed – a nice guy. That's it. Not anything else." Dean stood and stretched. "I think I might go back into town and see what they do for fun."

"This is too small a town to hustle pool in, Dean." Sam muttered, and Dean managed to look scandalized, placing one hand over his heart in mock pain.

"Some words to live by, little brother: No town is too small to hustle pool in." Dean retorted, picking up his jacket and keys. "Don't wait up." His cellphone rang, and Dean reached into a pocket, fished out his phone and answered.

"Hello?" Dean's eyes widened and Sam stood. "Yeah, Chloe, it's Dean. Did you find something?"

"Did we find something? Well, it's definitely up your alley, that's for sure." Chloe replied, looking up at Clark, who was leafing through a stack of black and white pictures. "Our friend, the one whose family used to own the land the Luthorcorp plant is on? Well, he just had his brother drop off everything his family still had regarding their old factory. It seems there was a similar accident forty years ago."

Dean gestured for Sam to get up. "We're on our way. Where are you, Chloe?"

"Clark and I are at his farm. From your hotel, get on the main road like you were going back to town. Make the first left you can after you pass through Smallville. The Kent farm will be on the right. Big yellow farm house. We're out in the barn." Chloe told him quickly.

"Right." Dean nodded. "Got it. Be there as soon as we can. Thanks, Chloe." Dean hung up and looked at Sam with an odd expression.

"What is it?" Sam asked, and Dean laughed.

"I think we missed out not having a sister, Sam. Come on. They got some background on the old factory for us." He slapped his brother on the shoulder. "I could get used to this."

Vinny Carson looked at the old Ross Cannery equipment, and tapped it with his flashlight. Mr. Luthor had ordered double security on the entire plant since the accident, and Vinny was glad of the overtime. His girlfriend Penny had a whole fairy tale princess wedding planned, and the extra shifts would help pay for the dream honeymoon he had arranged for her. Smiling as he thought about Penny in a bikini on a Hawaiian beach, Vinny pointed his flashlight at the place where that engineering geek had been found. They'd cleaned up the mess, nothing left to tell that the machine had gone berserk and killed that guy. Vinny shook his head. 

"Poor bastard." The young security guard shook his head, walking around the machine. He heard a thunk, like the sound of a full can of beer hitting the floor. Turning, Vinny saw a man, roughly thirty-five, poking at the processor thoughtfully.

"Hey, you with the police?" Vinny asked, and the man looked up at him, and Vinny wondered if maybe this cop didn't need a vacation to Hawaii, he was pale. The man blinked and shook his head.

"Sunovabitch is going to cause problems down the road. Friggin' antique, that's what it is. Should've been replaced years ago." The man looked up and tapped the outside of the machine. The full beer can falling sound echoed through the room again. "Keep your ass away from this sunovabitch, new guy."

"Right." Vinny nodded. "Who the hell are you?" The man in front of him folded his arms and then frowned. It seemed as if he were getting ready to say something, but then, he simply vanished. "What the hell…?" Vinny walked around the machine, and he tapped it with his flashlight. It sprung to life on it's own with a mechanical scream. Taking two steps back, Vinny staggered away from the grinders, and then felt a cold, creeping feeling that traced up his spine and danced around his ears. He turned, and found himself face to face with a glowing white figure. It had no eyes, just a black band across where it's eyes should have been. "Sweet Jesus!" Vinny felt it touch him, pushing him backwards and then he lost his balance, collapsing against the housing of the machine. Something tugged at his jacket, and he swatted at it, his eyes not leaving the figure before him. It opened it's mouth and pointed, the scream issuing from it rattled through his mind, blending with the crunching sound of the gears. The tugging at his jacket continued, urgent and insistent. Vinny turned to look at what was pulling on him and saw the huge shining, green cylinders spinning, pulling his jacket. He fumbled with the buttons, but could not get free.

"HELP!!" He cried, but the specter before him seemed to dampen all the sound in the room, and he realized that no one would hear him. "HELP ME!"

Vinny felt himself being dragged closer to the spinning grinders and then, as he lost his balance, the pain blinded him. The specter pointed and seemed to cry, and the last thing Vinny saw before he lost consciousness was the thing open and close it's mouth, like it was trying to speak to him.

"Of course he lives here." Dean said, looking at the well kept Kent farmhouse and shaking his head. "Perfect."

"What's wrong with here?" Sam asked. He'd not been able to shake the feeling that something was definitely NOT human about Clark Kent, but the perfectly normal farmhouse and barn were not evidence Sam's intution was on target.

"Guys like that Clark, good looking, All American, no problems. Of course he lives in a Norman Rockwell painting…that's all." Dean rolled his eyes. "Let's go see what they found."

"Yeah." Sam climbed out of the car. He looked up, and smiled to see Chloe Sullivan looking down at him from the loft window. "Hey." He waved, and she waved back.

"You found it. I thought we'd have to go out searching." Chloe grinned. "Come on up."

Sam and Dean made their way up to the Kent's barn loft and saw that Clark and Chloe had already made some headway through the pictures and documents they'd received from their friend.

"Thanks for coming out." Clark shook hands with the brothers and handed over the sheaf of black and white pictures. "Most of the stuff Pete's dad sent over is just manufacturing records and inventories, but I found these. They're old crime scene photos, and they may be a little gory."

"I love gory." Dean said, taking the pictures and shuffling through them. "Industrial accident?"

"Exactly the same as the one last week." Chloe said, looking up from a pile of old newspapers. "Clark found these in his storm cellar. His grandfather kept them." She rose and handed one to Sam. FOREMAN KILLED BY FAULTY EQUIPMENT AT ROSS FACTORY – NO CHARGES BEING SOUGHT AGAINST ROSS FAMILY, was the headline.

Sam read the article. "It says here his wife got there in time to say goodbye. That's her, right, the blonde?"

Chloe nodded. "Betty Stevens. She lives in town. Owns a bookstore." She looked at Clark. "A new age bookstore."

"A new age bookstore in Smallville?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly normal."

"No." Clark shrugged. "She's had it hard. Her oldest daughter was killed in the first meteor shower that hit here, and her two other girls don't speak to her anymore."

"Let's hear it for the small town gossip network." Dean looked up from the pictures. "Why?"

"Well," Clark rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "I'm not sure. One of them is a neighbor of mine. It's…" Clark trailed off as if listening to something. "Chloe, why don't you go over to the bookstore with Sam, and Dean and I will go take a ride to the Luthorcorp plant. We'll cover more ground if we split up."

"Sounds like a good idea." Chloe looked up at Sam. "Let's go." Sam smiled and looked over at Dean, who was studying one of the pictures very intently. "Hang on, Chloe…what is it, Dean?"

"Nothing." Dean shook his head. "Her face. She's got those big old shades on, I can't make out her eyes…" He turned the picture around so Sam could see it. "It's the urban legend, you know, the one where the guy gets caught in the machine and…"

"His wife gets there in time to kiss him goodbye." Chloe bit her lip. "You don't really believe that could have actually happened?"

"I've seen lots of things no one believes actually happened." Dean said, looking back at Sam. He pointed at Betty. "She's alive. So if the wife is alive…."

"The husband? I don't know, Dean. It seems so strange. Why would the victim kill more people?" Sam asked.

"Anger, revenge, frustration…could have been anything." Clark offered, taking the others by surprise. "If we're going to go, we'd better do it now."

"Yeah." Dean slid the pictures into his pockets. "My car or, no...my car." Clark nodded, grabbing a red jacket from the back of a chair. "That jacket stays here. Don't you have something less conspicuous?"

Clark grinned. "Yeah. He walked over to a coat rack and pulled off a battered looking denim jacket and put it on. "Better?"

"Yes." Chloe gasped, and this time the three men looked at her in surprise. She gasped helplessly, blushing, then snatched up her purse. "Um...come on, Sam. I'll drive us over Mrs. Steven's bookstore."


	2. Chapter 2

The flashing lights from the squad cars were giving Lex a headache. Actually, it seemed to Lex that he'd had nothing but headaches since the first accident earlier in the week. Now, not being able to get into the plant was an even bigger headache Lex could have done without. And the deputy guarding the entrance was made of stone.

"I own the plant, Officer. I think I have a right to see the damage." Lex said reasonably, and the deputy nodded.

"All things being even, Mr. Luthor, I'd say yeah, you need to be there. But, since we don't know if the perp is still inside, I'm not letting anyone in or out until I get an all clear from Sheriff Jones. I can radio him, but I know he's not going to be happy with the interruption."

Lex considered this. The new sheriff was stiff, unyielding and righteous to where even Clark seemed liberal. And unlike every sheriff in Smallville had done before him, Jones was not interested in playing soothe the local billionaire. "Radio him."

The deputy sighed and took out his radio. The conversation between the deputy and his boss was brief. "Sheriff Jones is on his way, Mr. Luthor. Brace yourself."

Lex didn't reply, but when the sheriff appeared, the young billionaire found himself standing straighter. Sheriff Jones was a tall man, probably the tallest Lex had ever seen, grim faced and silent. Walking out of the gloom, Jones seemed more of an extension of the space between the dark evening and the floodlit parking lot than a man. His tan uniform was in perfect order, creases razor sharp, not a button or loop was out of place, soldierly in his rigid compliance with the rules of his profession. Lex, in spite of himself, found that he was indeed intimidated.

"Mr. Luthor." Jones said, his voice a pleasant and deep baritone, generically authoritative. "Deputy Richardson tells me you want to get in and see the accident site."

"Has it been ruled an accident?" Lex asked, and Jones nodded.

"It has. The coroner is on the way to collect the body, and I've called the Kansas State Troopers to deliver the news to his family. You may enter the plant, Mr. Luthor, but I ask you not to disrupt anything. This is still a crime scene until I say otherwise. Two accidents of this nature are most irregular. I'm tempted to close the whole place down." Jones peered at Lex, skewering him to the ground with just the eye contact. "Couldn't help but notice all the meteor rock. I don't need to tell you what large quantities of it can do, genetic defects, mutations. Did some research before I took the job here to know what I'd be dealing with. I'd be careful with that if I were you." Jones looked down at the leather covered pad in his hand. "And that cannery equipment needs to be dismantled at once. If I get called out here again because of it, things will not go easily for you, Mr. Luthor." Jones snapped his book shut.

Lex bristled. "I don't think your jurisdiction extends to my operations here, Sheriff."

"When you are charged with negligence and murder, Mr. Luthor, you will be amazed at my jurisdiction." Jones' face had not changed it's composed, pleasant expression.

"Go on in, Mr. Luthor." Jones dismissed Lex simply by blinking. Lex felt his breath come easier as the Sheriff moved away, and walked into his plant, ready to determine how much damage needed to be controlled.

Clark and Dean stood outside the nine foot high cyclone fence around the Luthorcorp Plant and watched the activity.

"We have to get in there and get some readings off that equipment." Dean said, and Clark nodded, scanning the crowd. Dean, used to Sam's significant silences, looked at Clark. "What is it."

"Lex is always trying to harness the powers of the meteor rocks. They affect all kinds of things. What if they somehow are boosting whatever is causing these accidents to happen?" Clark turned to Dean. "It's just a guess."

"Good guess." Dean nodded, mulling this over. "Minerals and metals can definitely dampen or amplify the power of an entity. I hope Sam and Chloe find out some info at that bookstore. We should just wait here until the crowd dies down and then get in there and see what we can see."

Clark nodded, eyeing the platoon of emergency vehicles. "I don't want to get on the radar of that new sheriff, Dean. He's going to be here awhile. "

"Time I got." Dean looked over at the Luthorcorp plant again. "Just want to stop this thing before someone else gets killed."

"So, Chloe." Sam asked, glancing over at her shyly. "How long do you know Clark?"

"Oh, wow." Chloe smiled widely. "Forever. My dad used to work for Luthorcorp and when they transferred him here, Clark was my first friend." She was driving on Main street, and then pointed to the bookstore, which was brightly lit and open for business. "There it is." She pulled the car over and parked. "Why did you want to know that? About me and Clark?"

"Um, just curious. You guys are a pretty efficient team." Sam replied, and Chloe eyed him suspiciously. "No, really. That's all. "

"Uh–huh." Chloe smirked. "Look, Sam, if we are going to be working together, even for a few days, you need to know right now that Smallville is unlike any other place you and your brother have ever been. We know about the weird things here. People expect it."

"Right." Sam nodded. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because not everything in Smallville that's weird is bad. Look, there's Mrs. Stevens." Chloe pointed to a very slender older woman who was standing in the doorway of the bookstore, chatting with some customers. "Come on." Chloe got out of the car and walked toward the bookstore. Sam unfolded himself from her car, missing the Impala terribly. Dean was right. Older cars did have more leg room.

"Hello, Chloe." Betty Stevens smiled. "It's been a long time since you've been by. How's school?"

"Fine, Mrs. Stevens. I wanted to you meet my friend, Sam. He's visiting from California." Chloe lied smoothly, and Sam was amazed as the untruth slid past Mrs. Stevens without so much as a suspicious glance. Instead, her smile grew more welcoming, and friendly.

"Well, Sam. Nice to meet you. I just made some tea. Why don't you both come in, browse around and have some tea with me. It's been so long since I've seen Chloe." Mrs. Stevens voice was very cultured and soft. "I hope you don't mind sharing your visit with me a little."

"No, not at all." Sam replied, smiling down at the woman. For her age, which had to be close to seventy, Betty Stevens was more than what would be called well preserved. It was downright uncanny. Sam allowed her to take his arm and walked in with her to the store, while Mrs. Stevens chatted with Chloe about Met U and the events of "Dark Thursday", something that Dean and Sam missed simply by virtue of their work. Mrs. Stevens was asking Chloe something in a low voice that Sam nearly missed, except for the word, "Clark." Chloe blushed, and smiled, and had barely begun to reply when she felt Sam's eyes on her.

"Clark is fine, Mrs. Stevens. He sends his best. He said Amanda and Tom bought the old Baker place." Chloe's response had changed, that much Sam could tell, but the mention of Clark's neighbors made Mrs. Stevens tense slightly.

"I'm happy for them." She smiled at Sam again. "Now, Sam, I made oolong, but I have something more hearty. My husband loved Irish tea, and I always keep some. Would you prefer that?"

"Whatever you have is fine, Mrs. Stevens. Interesting choice of books you have here. I don't think I've seen such well stocked new age bookshops even in California." Sam scanned a row of books. "Astral projection, Out of body experiences. Wow." Sam accepted the tea with a smile. "Thanks."

"It became a hobby after my husband died." Betty Stevens said a little sadly. "A hobby that grew to an obsession and now, here I am. I've poured my heart and soul into this place." She looked around. "I even sold the house and live upstairs. I'm not young anymore."

Chloe was reading a blue flyer. "I didn't know you gave classes too." She looked up at Mrs. Stevens and handed the flyer to Sam. "How interesting that must be for you."

"I love it." Betty Stevens admitted. "So wonderful to see people opening up their minds to new experiences. Want to see the classroom? I'm so proud of it." She looked almost YOUNG, Sam thought, as she led them to the class space, an intimate, relaxing room, the floor covered in pillows, the air scented pleasantly with incense. "Guided meditation classes are full, especially since Dark Thursday. I'm sorry there are so many people suffering." She dropped an orange scarf over a large burgundy leather book and Sam wondered if that had been accidental. Chloe had obviously noticed the gesture too, because she immediately picked up the scarf again.

"I love this shade of orange." Chloe said, rubbing the silk scarf against her cheek. Sam peered down at the book, but couldn't make out the title.

"Well dear, you must have it then." Mrs. Stevens said. "Although I don't see you in orange much." She peered at Chloe critically, and Sam quietly took out his camera phone and snapped two pictures of the book. By coincidence, the phone rang, and Sam answered, glad to have an excuse for holding the phone in the first place.

"Sammy, how's it going?" Dean asked, and Sam nodded.

"Well, I'm good." He replied neutrally. "Just here with my friend Chloe visiting with her friend Betty Stevens."

"You find anything out? It looks like something big has gone down over here. We're still outside the plant waiting for the 5-0 to go away. Oh, right." Dean looked over at Clark. "She's right there." He chuckled. "Is she hot?" Dean looked over at Clark, who was trying to mask his amusement at the question by seeming to disapprove, but failed miserably.

"No, I wouldn't say that, but a very, very nice woman. Can I call you back, MOM?" Sam asked, hoping Dean's laughter would not be heard by the two women on this end of the line with him and hung up without saying goodbye, just in case.

"Everything alright, Sam?" Chloe asked. "Your mother?" She looked at him significantly and Sam realized she somehow knew he had been talking to Dean.

"Oh she's fine." There was a vindictive pleasure in calling Dean she, Sam thought, laughing to himself. "Just wondering how I am."

"How nice." Mrs. Stevens said, "It's wonderful to see young people close to their families." She smiled at Sam. "Well, I've given Chloe a gift. Can't let you leave without something. Anything you want. I don't have grandchildren to spoil, so my young friends and customers reap the benefits."

"That's really not necessary." Sam began, but Betty Stevens eyed him, and handed him a small dream catcher. "Thanks."

"You look like you haven't been sleeping. Dark circles under your eyes." She smiled, and it seemed to Sam that all at once she looked every day of her age. "You are too young to have troubles keep you up at night." She closed her hands around his. "Keep it with you to banish those bad dreams."

Sam looked down at the dream catcher and wondered if being rid of those bad dreams was a good idea. "Thanks, Mrs. Stevens."

She smiled. "Now, kids, if you'll excuse this old woman, I need to get some rest. I'm not as young as I used to be and I need to get off my feet for awhile."

"Of course." Chloe clutched at the orange scarf and hugged Mrs. Stevens. "See you soon."

"Yes, don't be such a stranger. We Metropolis Blondes need to stick together." Betty caressed Chloe's cheek, and then turned to Sam. "I hope you have a wonderful visit. Kansas is such a pretty state."

"I will." Sam held up the dream catcher. "This is very nice."

"A Kiwatchee friend of mine makes them for the shop. Lovely lady, shaman of her tribe." Betty touched the deerskin circle. "I have one for my room. Best sleep I've had in years."

Sam and Chloe left, and walked slowly to Chloe's car. Chloe was reading the blue flyer again.

"What is it?" Sam asked, and Chloe looked up at him, frowning.

"What time was it when Clark suggested we split up? Do you remember?" Chloe asked, tapping the paper against her chin. "Was it around eight thirty?"

Sam looked at his watch. "It's nearly ten now, so yeah. Clark and Dean are outside the factory right now, waiting for the cops to clear out."

"Sam." Chloe moved along side of him and pointed to a time on the store's class schedule. "At eight thirty, Betty Stevens was in the middle of her guided hypnosis class."

Sam blinked, processing the information, trying to avoid the implication that Clark had somehow KNOWN. "I got two pictures of that book she tried cover with that scarf you have. We should see if we can blow them up. If we can pinpoint the title, I can find out more online."

"The Kansas A&M library is open 24 hours at midterms. I bet we might have better luck there, plus they have a whole section of Kiwatchee lore. If Betty Stevens is friends with the Kiwatchee shaman…" Chloe said, and Sam looked at her in amazement.

"We might have a lead." Sam smiled down at his companion. "Wow. Let's get some coffee and get started."

"Clark, how come you're still here in Smallville, really?" Dean asked, lowering the radio. Clark was leaning on the roof of the car, watching the activity at the Luthorcorp plant die down. "You're a big guy, probably played football in high school…"

Clark laughed. "Are you psychic? Yeah, I did play football in school, quarterback, one season. It was great, and I was offered a full ride to Met U, but life sort of got in the way, I guess."

Dean nodded. "Life does that, doesn't it?" Clark nodded, and rolled his eyes.

"You can say that again. My father died last year, and I stayed around after that to help run the farm. I've been picking up classes at Kansas A&M, but I'm still not sure what I want to do with my life yet. There are expectations." Clark shrugged, thinking not only of Jonathan Kent but of Jor-El and the now bleak and empty Arctic Fortress. "Can't live up to all of them, so…"

"I know the feeling. Sam and I just lost our father a few weeks ago. It sucks. You get to where you do feel like you have to pick up where they left off. You have brothers and sisters, Clark?" Dean asked, and Clark shook his head. "You get all responsible for them. What's it like being an only child?"

"Like?" Clark shook his head. "Well…I don't know. I've always had my friends around, and they're like family. There have been definitely times where it would have been nice to have a brother or sister, I guess."

"Friends." Dean took this in. "Can't say I've had many of those. Oh, here we go." Dean watched as the last squad car pulled off the Luthorcorp property. "It's go time."

"Let's do this." Clark nodded, closing the passenger side door with a gentle firmness Dean appreciated. Sam needed to learn to close the door that way. Easier on the paint. They made their way silently up and over the fence and to the plant itself, staying in the shadows. It was probably one of the more public and heaviest guarded placed Dean had ever had the experience of breaking into. Looking to his companion, who had somehow taken over this mission, Dean was stunned to see that Clark was neither afraid or being all that careful about being seen. There was a gust of wind, and Dean lowered his face against the dust and gravel it kicked up

around him. He heard a the small tinkle sound of glass breaking and then Clark's voice.

"Look, there's no camera or light on over that door." Dean looked up and shook his head. Just moments before, that light HAD been on. There was no mistaking that.

"Wow, that's the kind of luck I want playing cards." Dean said, and Clark nodded nonchalantly.

"Must have been that breeze." Clark noted, and Dean shrugged.

"I need 'breezes' like that on on every job." Dean replied and Clark nodded. "You seem to know this place pretty well, Clark."

"Chloe and I have had reason to break in to Luthorcorp before." Dean couldn't see Clark's face, but his voice was amused. They made it to the door, and again, Clark pushed through a door that Dean would have first checked the lock on. "Um, look at that…it was open."

"Lucky break." Dean looked at the door, and turned his flashlight on. "We may not have been the only uninvited people here Clark. Check it out. This door isn't just open. The lock is busted."

"Hmm." Clark nodded and moved past the door rather quickly. "Come on. We'd better not waste too much more time."

Chloe sat down with a large leather bound book, and opened it, her tongue just ever so slightly sticking out of the corner of her mouth. "I called Clark's friend, Dr. Willowbrook. He's the head of the Native Studies department here. He said he'd meet us here in a few minutes." She told Sam, who had seated himself across from her, one seat over, the laptop open. Just as Chloe'd promised, the Kansas A&M library was indeed open, and sparsely populated, too. A sleepy looking librarian had been conned into letting Chloe take the book she had, a portfolio of preserved news clippings from the date of the original accident. Sam suppressed the urge to kiss her – if only for the fact that she had a mind like a hunter – and eyes like Jess. Thinking of Jess, Sam cleared his throat and looked at the girl across from him now.

"Great. Hey, Chloe," Sam began, wondering how he would ask if Clark's mother had been killed in a strange way on Clark's 6month birthday, or if Chloe's had. The idea that Clark was different had not left his mind, and Chloe's nearly intuitive ability to see several steps ahead in a situation raised new questions. "this is going to sound crazy, but Clark…are his parents alive?"

Chloe looked up. "Sam, I can appreciate you being interested in Clark. I mean, he's gorgeous. But he's into girls." She smiled ruefully.

"No. I mean, NO." Sam said hurriedly. "It's not that. My mother died when I was a baby, 6 months old, in a house fire, and I wondered if…"

"Clark had a similar situation going on?" Chloe tapped her chin with a pencil and then shook her head. "He was adopted when he was three years old, after the first meteor shower here. His adoptive parents found him in a field, naked and quite content. They searched for his real family, but no one ever claimed him." Chloe mentally edited Clark's life to fill Sam in. "Like I said, there's no way to really know how badly the meteors have affected people here. Some, like Clark's adoptive mother, Martha, are perfectly normal. Others could do strange things, super strength, mental powers. It's really like living in the town that Ripley's Believe It or Not never discovered." Chloe rolled her eyes. "The things in this town could fill seventeen museums, and I don't think we'd still know for sure how it all happened."

Sam nodded. Suddenly, the idea of Clark being an angel seemed more plausible. Alone, three years old, in a cornfield, on the day of a cataclysm was fairly significant. However, it wasn't getting the research into the deaths at the Luthorcorp plant done, either. Chloe had looked back down at the book and sighed. "Look at Mrs. Stevens here. She was so young." Chloe pointed to a news photo of Mrs. Stevens, who was probably about 29 or so, a tall and elegant figure. Again, Sam noticed the large wraparound sunglasses she was wearing. 

"Like a movie star." Sam frowned. "Did you notice that she looked much younger when we first got to the store, and by the end of or visit, she was looking, well, older?" Sam looked up at Chloe, who seemed to consider that for a moment.

"Actually, I just chalked that off to her being tired, but now that you mention it, it was kind of dramatic." Chloe nodded, looking back down at the picture of young Betty Stevens. "What are you thinking caused that?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'm going to look some things up and see what I come up with." Sam took out his father's journal, and started leafing through it. "Something about her interest in out of body experiences and astral projection made me wonder."

"Well, when you find it, let me know." Chloe said amicably, sipping at her coffee. "When Dr. Willowbrook gets here, I'll talk to him about Betty and the shaman."

"So," Clark was walking just slightly ahead of Dean, looking around as they went. The corridors in this section of the plant were eerily deserted. "You mentioned an urban legend about an industrial accident?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "The idea is, someone gets caught in a piece of machinery. In cities where there are subways, they even will say the person gets caught between the train and the track."

"Ouch." Clark said, puzzling out how something like that could even happen in the first place.

"Thing is, they aren't dead. The story goes they live long enough to say goodbye to their loved ones. Then someone throws the switch and the machinery moves."

"And the victim is dead." Clark nodded. "Except the last accident happened and the victim was alone. His wife was home in Granville."

"Yeah." Dean shrugged. His phone rang, echoing down the empty hallway.

"Sammy? What's up?"

"I'm at the library at the local college with Chloe. What about you?" Sam's voice seemed far away. "All well?"

"Oh, you know, Clark and I are just doing a little breaking and entering while you and Chloe are playing co-eds. Nothing important or illegal or anything." Dean looked over at Clark, who seemed to be studying a wall very intently. "Find anything?"

"Well, it's coming. Thought you might like to know that Betty Stevens teaches meditation and guided astral projection." Sam said, and Dean nodded. "She's tight with the local Native American shaman, and the folklore professor here is on his way."

"Don't tease me, Sammy. What's on your mind?" Dean asked.

"I'll know for sure when the folklore professor gets here, but I'm thinking Betty Stevens soul is somehow not _leaving _her body during these astral projection sessions. I think she's getting it _back._"

"Okay, I'm officially freaked out." Dean replied, getting Clark's attention. "Be on the lookout for a woman's soul."

Clark frowned again. "That's great. How am I supposed to see a soul?"

Dean shook his head agreement. "Okay. And Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Hurry up, huh?" Dean hung up and looked at Clark. "Have any idea where this old cannery equipment would be?"

"I'm guessing over this way." Clark gestured down the hall. "According to the blueprints. Let's go."

Sam hung up his phone just as an older man walked toward them, looking more than a little tired. Sam nodded in the older man's direction, and Chloe rose, suddenly in professional reporter mode.

"Professor Willowbrook? I'm Chloe Sullivan." Chloe held out a hand, and the professor took it.

"How is my friend Clark? I haven't seen him in a while?" Professor Willowbrook smiled.

"He's just fine. This is Sam Winchester." Chloe gestured to Sam, who had risen politely when the older man approached. "He's working with me on the project I told you about on the phone."

"Nice to meet you, Sam." Professor Willowbrook shook Sam's hand warmly. "You wanted to know about the Kiwatchee legends about souls?" He scratched his head. "Not much to ask this late at night."

"I'm sorry, Professor Willowbrook, but if you point us in the right direction, we won't keep you long." Sam said, and the Professor nodded.

"I think I can do that. Why does this particularly have to do with Betty Stevens?"

Professor Willowbrook asked. "She and Miriam have become quite close. Betty's had it hard."

"I know." Chloe said. "I don't want to seem nosy, either. I just wanted to ask about any legends about souls, where they go, what becomes of them…"

"In the Kiwatchee belief?" The Professor nodded, and then looked at Sam. "In that case, it's simple. We believe the body and soul are one, unless something divides them. They can exist without the other, but it's an odd half life. The soul can become attached to a place, a trauma. Areas where our people were massacred are still haunted by souls."

"Of the slaughtered." Sam said, and the older man shook his head.

"Of the witnesses. Of the ones who returned to find women and children dead. Solider and Kiwatchee warrior alike walk those places. And they are angry. The bodies are long dead, but the souls cannot let go."

"But the souls were there, even before it's body died?" Chloe frowned. "That just seems odd."

"The soulless bodies live normally. They eat, sleep, do all the things you or I would do." Professor Willowbrook told them. "You can tell them by the flatness in their eyes. They aren't worse or better for losing their soul, either. But, they're less alive."

"Is Betty Stevens one of these soulless ones?" Sam asked, and Professor Willowbrook cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"What do you think?" He smiled sadly. "There are those that are built strongly and can withstand any hardship or heartache without losing their soul. Others are not so lucky. When Clay died, Betty's soul left her body and never came back. Sometimes a person's soul will be restored if they come to terms with their heartache. Like yours." He looked at Sam sympathetically. The professor looked at his watch. "I'd best go. My daughter gets concerned if I'm late."

Chloe took his hand. "I just want you to know, Dr. Willowbrook, that we don't mean Betty Stevens any harm…"

"I know, dear girl. She's been trying to get her soul back for years." He sighed. "I'd best be going. Good night."

He walked away, and Sam and Chloe stared at each other in shock. "Like yours?" Chloe asked, and Sam shrugged, shaking his head. "Oh no. Not so fast, question boy. What's going on?"

"Chloe, we really don't have time for this." Sam said uncomfortably, but Chloe shook her head.

"Why would Professor Willowbrook say that to you, Sam?" Chloe asked, more gently this time. She reached across the table and took his hand. Sam looked down at his hand in her smaller one and closed his eyes. Dean had mentioned how great having a sister like Chloe would be. Sam wondered what having a girlfriend like Chloe would be like, but dismissed the thought. It seemed to him that Clark might not like it much.

"My girlfriend was killed last year. I found her body and it was very traumatic." Sam said, not looking at Chloe's face, but by her sharp intake of breath, he knew her eyes had filled with tears for him. "I felt like I was dying for a long time…I wonder if my soul took a break from me for a while." He laughed bitterly. "I guess that sounds crazy."

"Whoa, no it doesn't." Chloe rose. "We have to go. Sam…it really happened. And she's been the witness for the other death, and possibly tonight too…"

"And she got it back, for a little while…it's why she looked so young…" Sam pushed the lid of his laptop shut and got up. "Come on. We have to get out to the plant before it happens again."

Dean and Clark arrived at a large door at the end of the corridor, and Clark nodded. "This is where the old Ross Cannery Foundation is, just beyond this door." The door itself was massive, battleship grey and impenetrable. For Dean. Clark, on the other hand, could have opened the door easily, but with Dean right there, it was the same as being powerless.

"That door is serious overkill." Dean shook his head. "We'd need a tank to get through it."

"Or the key." Clark pushed on the door. He looked down at the handle and then eyed the door again. "This door is lined with lead."

"Lots of old factories used lead paint on things." Dean said, looking around for something to break the door down with. "Supposed to help the color last longer or something."

"Hmmm" Clark nodded. He'd tried to look through the wall, too, but Lex had been planning ahead, because the whole room was lined with lead. "People also use lead to shield against radioactivity."

"Yeah, they do. You think there's nuclear crap behind there?" Dean frowned. "Christ."

"I don't know. Lex likes to play with the local meteor rock, and they emit a radioactive energy field."

"Okay. I don't want any "Silkwood" craziness going on…" Dean told Clark. He took out a gun and fired it at the door, blasting away a section of the lock with one shot. The door creaked away from the frame. "Ready?"

"Yeah." Clark nodded, holding his breath. It only took the door to open a crack for him to know why the lead was there. He'd been right. Lex was experimenting with Kryptonite again.

Clark's world narrowed and then widened sharply as Dean swung the door open. There was a gust of cool air, and the sickly green glow of the Kryptonite diffused and vanished.

"Clark, you okay?" Dean asked, staring at the antique machine. "Holy crap. Get a look at this bad boy..."

"I'm here." Clark made his way into the room. The Kryptonite in the room was refined, and while it affected him, it wasn't completely incapacitating either. He walked over to Dean and studied the machines from a distance. "I can't believe this."

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "They've been modified. See there?" Dean pointed to some controls and latches. "Someone's been trying to make this equipment safer."

Clark nodded, the knowledge of the Kryptonite in the room making him wonder about Dean's assessment of the equipment. The oddest part of all was that Clark didn't feel sick, he felt NORMAL. Clark turned and walked to the nearest workstation and opened a red loose leaf binder titled "Maintenance Log.", while Dean walked around the press, scanning it with a little handheld machine, it's red lights blinking.

"This whole machine is crawling with activity. Wow." Dean looked up. "Something is fixing this…"

"Hey, Joe…" A man in glasses appeared from the opposite side of the machine, and both Clark and Dean looked at each other in surprise. "Joe! Where the hell have you been? You know they've been looking for you since Louise was killed!" Clark rose and walked a little closer.

"You're Clay Stevens, right?" He asked, and the man with the glasses nodded, tapping the machine with a wrench. A dull thud echoed through the room, and Dean found himself riveted to the floor. He could feel a prickling chill going up his spine. There was another spirit in the room, and Dean found that he couldn't turn to see if it was right behind him or not. He actually didn't have to. Dean could feel it, the icy cold waves that poured off it.

"I am. Don't get too close to this sunovabith, Joe. Drifter or no, I'd hate to have to clean you out of the gears." The ghost of Clay Stevens laughed. "Damn bith of a job that would be, right?"

"Yeah." Clark took a step back. "You've been working on it, haven't you? Trying to keep the accident from happening?"

"Damn thing. I find out who it is on the day shift that's ripping my modifications out, I'll fire their asss so fast they'll not know which end is up. " Clay Stevens tapped the machine again. "Another poor bastard got himself flattened tonight because of that jerk on days. "

"Easy, Clark." Dean whispered, almost inaudibly, and Clark nodded. "There's more than one…" A clattering scream echoed through the room, and the machine sprang to life.

"Damn piece of sht." Clay Stevens said, walking back from where he had come and then vanished. Clark went to go after Clay, but a wave of nausea made him stagger forward. The Kryptonite alloy on the presses began to glow, and the more Clark fought to free himself, the more tangled into the press he became. His arm vanished into the press, and a searing burst of pain flushed through him, throbbing with every rotation of the huge steel cylinders. Clark could no longer see his arm, and he tried to pull away, no longer caring if his left arm came away with him. Each pull seemed to somehow draw him closer in, and Clark wished to God that Lex had used enough Kryptonite in this little project to kill him outright. Because this was torture. He was faintly aware of Dean and the figure behind him, a figure Clark recognized immediately. "Mrs…Ste……vens….."

"Clark!" Dean screamed, struggling to free himself as Clark growled in pain, his feet slipping on the polished concrete floor. "I'll get help!" Dean turned, and found himself face to face with a glowing white specter, a black band obscuring half of it's face. It raised it's arm and pointed, the mouth opening and closing. "Holy sht!"

Dean heard footsteps, as Sam and Chloe burst into the room. Chloe screamed, running for the machine, looking for controls to shut the thing off, and Sam pushed Dean to the floor, facing the thing dead on.

"Betty, listen to me!! That's not Clay in the press! That's Clark, Clark Kent! You've got to let this go. You aren't going to get to Clay this way, I promise you! We can help you. Please!!" Sam cried, and the figure paused, it's shrill scream silenced. The press ground to a stop, and Sam could hear Chloe and now Dean fighting to free Clark from the machine as the soul of Betty Stevens resolved itself into more familiar lines, even going so far as to remove her huge wraparound sunglasses.

_Sam._ He heard her say, a horrified gasp. _Am I dreaming? What are you doing here? CLAY!_

"No." Sam began, when a man with glasses stepped out from the machine, adding his efforts to those of Chloe and Dean. Hearing his name, the man turned.

"Geez, Betty!" He said. "It's not a good time. Go, woman! Get help. This poor kid is going to lose his arm…" Clay Steven's ghost shouted, and the glowing soul of his widow seemed to retreat, her hand over her heart. "You, kid, come here and help us. If that shthead on days didn't dismantle it, I have a lever in here to raise the cylinder…." The top cylinder rose, and Clark fell backwards, clutching his mangled arm, nearly unconscious from the pain. Chloe made a rough sling of the orange scarf and held Clark cradled in her arms, tears of relief washing her face and his.

Dean and the ghostly Clay Stevens looked at each other, and Dean nodded toward Sam and the astral form beside his brother.

"Go say goodbye, man. She needs to let go. So do you. And I promise, this machine is gone, tonight." Dean told the ghost, who took off it's glasses and wiped them on his white shirt, looking over at where his wife's disembodied soul stood. The two spirits seemed to merge and then in bright flash, both were gone. All of the strange modifications Clay Stevens had made to the press disappeared, and the cylinder that had risen crashed to the floor away from where they all were. A small fragment of bone fell free of the machine, and Dean picked it up, pulverizing it between his fingers.

"Clark?" Sam and Dean both knelt beside their new friend. "You going to make it? We're going to get you to help." Sam said, and Clark nodded, unable to speak, the pain was still intense and pushing through him.

"Let's just get him out of here." Chloe said, suddenly in control of herself. The Winchester brothers helped lift Clark, and Dean looped Clark's good arm around Chloe's shoulders.

"You guys get him out of here. I have some work to do." He eyed the machine and grinned. "This is going to be fun."

Sam and Chloe helped Clark outside, where the stars were shining and a cool breeze gently blew the sweat dry on their flushed faces. Clark was quiet, his breathing even and it seemed to Sam that Clark was somehow healing. The color had returned to his face. They all sat against the cyclone fence, waiting for Dean in silence. Chloe had wrapped her arms around Clark tightly, whispering to him as if afraid that not speaking would give Clark a chance to slip away from her again.

"Sam…" Clark croaked, struggling to sit up straighter. "You'd better go help Dean. Chloe'll get me to the hospital…"

"Yeah.." Sam nodded. "We'll come check on you when we're done." Sam stood, and helped Clark to his feet. Clark smiled at him, at first brightly and then as if he remembered, the smiled dropped to half power.

"Thank you, Sam. If not for you, I'd be dead right now." Clark said, offering his undamaged hand to shake Sam's with as Dean appeared from the plant door, wiping grease from his face and grinning proudly.

"Any time, Clark." Sam nodded, and shook Clark's offered hand. "You done?" Sam said, as Dean got closer to them. A distant wail of sirens could be heard in the quiet of the night, and Dean smiled proudly at his brother.

"Damn straight. That machine won't be crushing anything for a long, long time." Dean looked at the plant and then at his car and Chloe's red VW parked behind it. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Chloe's VW bug turned for the Smallville Medical Center, and Sam and Dean continued down Main Street to their hotel. Two paramedics were loading a covered body on a stretcher into the back of their ambulance outside of Betty Stevens bookstore.

"Wait." Sam said to Dean. "Pull over a second." When the Impala came to a stop, Sam got out.

"Excuse me." Sam stopped one of the paramedics. "What happened?"

The paramedic shook his head. "Dead. Heart attack. It looked quick. She had called my wife, her daughter and just said goodbye. That was it." The man looked at Sam. "Did you know Betty?"

"I just met her tonight. Went into the store with a friend earlier." Sam looked down at the stretcher. "I'm so sorry. She was a very nice lady."

"Yeah. A lot sad, but very nice. Funny thing. It was like she knew she was going to die tonight, you know?" The paramedic shook Sam's hand. "I'm Tom, by the way."

"Sam." Sam nodded. "What do you mean?"

"She and my wife haven't spoken in years. Family business, you know." Tom shrugged. "Out of the blue she calls, tells Amanda that she loves her, and that's it. Next thing I know, Amanda is calling me to come here and check things out. Odd, is all. But you know, the oddest part?" Tom reached back and rubbed his neck.

"What was that?" Sam asked, but he was pretty sure he knew what the other man was going to say.

"She was smiling. I've seen dead people smiling, and it isn't any real smile at all..but this? This was the prettiest thing I've ever seen. She died happy." Tom's partner came over from talking to the police officer there and helped lift the stretcher onto the ambulance. "Gotta go, man. Thanks for asking, huh?"

"Yeah, thank you." Sam stepped away as the ambulance doors closed and Tom hopped in and drove away, sirens off, toward the hospital. The police car followed as well and Sam walked back to the car, thinking over what he'd just heard. Betty Stevens had gotten her soul back, and could finally join her husband.

"Betty Stevens?" Dean asked, and Sam nodded, getting into the car in silence. They drove to their motel and without exchanging more than five words between them, went to sleep.

Morning came early, and the Winchesters found their way to the Kent farm to say goodbye. Clark Kent was outside, arm in a blue stabilizer, looking out at his fields.

"Hey, Kent!" Dean called. "How's your throwing arm?"

"Good. Mostly muscle and tendon damage. With physical therapy, I'll be as good as new in no time." Clark smiled. "You guys leaving already?" In truth, his arm was already almost 100, but Clark realized that even wanting to trust the Winchesters might be dangerous. Maybe in time, but not now.

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "I'm glad. Where's Chloe?" He looked up to the house.

"She's there. My mom is making breakfast. I was just wondering about how I was getting the chores done." Clark eyed the brothers. "Ever muck a horse stall?"

"Least we can do." Sam grinned.

"As long as we get breakfast before, and showers after." Dean added hopefully.

"Think we can arrange that." Clark nodded and led the brothers inside for breakfast.

The morning stretched to afternoon before the Winchesters were on the road, packed with food enough for two days and freshly washed clothes by Clark's mother, who issued invitations for the next time they were in town, and sisterly goodbye kisses from Chloe, who made them promise to keep her posted on their weird stories. Clark walked them to the car, and waved them goodbye as they headed down the driveway, his good arm around Chloe's shoulders.

"He's lucky to have her." Dean said, as Clark and Chloe grew small in his rearview.

"Yeah." Sam muttered, reading about the odd events of Dark Thursday in Metropolis. "They're a good team."

"Yeah." Dean put on his sunglasses, and turned up the radio. Next stop, Lawrence.


End file.
